


Feel the Magic

by Negate



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Kidnapping, M/M, Magic, Mentions of Blood, Sterek Secret Santa 2019, Stiles and Derek haven't admitted they love each other, Stiles has magic powers but it's not a blatant witchcraft story, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21994612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Negate/pseuds/Negate
Summary: Derek has been kidnapped, and only a certain novice witch can save him...
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 4
Kudos: 93





	Feel the Magic

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a gift for Sterek Secret Santa 2019, hosted by stereksecretsanta.tumblr.com

Derek is chained to the wall. The rough edges of the bricks dig into his bare back. Not that it matters, his skin is cut up and oozing blood and has been for God knows how long now. A little extra pain is inconsequential at this point and he barely registers it anymore.

The witch is pacing around in front of him. He doesn’t think of her like that because of her personality (he could use a lot more choice words if that were the case), it’s because she’s an _actual_ witch. Spells, incantations, the whole shebang. Before her appearance in town and his subsequent kidnapping, Derek didn’t know the witch trope was so blatantly true. He always assumed that magic in the world was more subtle. At least, that’s how it has always been… until now.

“Just tell me where they areeeee,” she whines, her voice twinged with immaturity and impatience.

Derek spits blood at her feet. “Eat shit.”

The witch raises her hand and clenches her fingers in response. Derek feels a twisting sensation in his chest, a gurgling sound escaping his lips as more of his blood is displaced inside his body. She waits a few moments, watching him suffer, before finally releasing him from the pain. Derek’s body falls slack against the wall.

“It doesn’t have to be like this.” She leans in so close; her breath is hot against his ear. “Just tell me where they are, and I’ll leave you be.”

He almost believes her.

“That’s… a lie, and we both… know it,” he mumbles. It takes a lot of energy. Her torture is taking a lot out of him.

“Maybe, but the only way to find out is to _give me what I want!_ ” She clenches her fingers again and Derek lets out a guttural scream as the pain washes over him once more. This time, it’s blinding. Every nerve in his body is on fire. He sees white, and the sound of his own fading screams carry him into unconsciousness.

—

The book in Stiles’s lap is large. Impossibly large. The words blur in front of him, his eyes struggling to focus. He’s been reading for what feels like forever, his mind trying it’s hardest to focus but ultimately too distracted by the situation at hand. Every muscle in his body wants to run out and find whoever did this, whoever took Derek… but logic (and Lydia) are right. They need to be prepared, and that means Stiles needs to go into this with some new tricks.  
  
Unfortunately his brain isn’t cooperating, and he’s tired of making it try.

“Okay!” He exclaims, shutting the book closed with a loud clap. “I think I’ve got this as down as I’m gonna. I could probably get Derek back by myself even.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Scott replies from the other side of the table. He’s been itching to go for a while now too, but forced to play practical leader. He sided with Lydia when she insisted they hold back to figure out a strategy before running in all-guns blazing.

This strategy, of course, turned out to be Stiles and his magical abilities.

“This is _Derek_ we’re talking about!” Stiles stands up, shifting his weight anxiously from foot to foot. “We need him back, we can’t live without him."

Scott and Lydia share a look that Stiles can’t read.

"I just mean,” Stiles continues, clearing his throat. “That he’s a part of this pack now and we don’t know what’s happening to him. We need to get him back. Now.”

"And we will, man, don’t worry.” Scott walks over and puts a hand on Stiles’s shoulder. It’s meant to be reassuring, but it doesn’t help much.

 _How can I not?_ Stiles thinks to himself. _We don’t know who or what has him… and we might already be too late_...

Over the last year, Stiles has been studying an ancient book, the same book he was reading just minutes ago. He’s been learning how to harness the natural magics of the world to do his bidding. It sounds so dramatic, but that’s how it is. Ever since the pack faced a group of magic-toting Druids last Christmas, he’s been going over their book, learning their tactics and spells. He may not be a werewolf or a banshee, but he’ll be damned if he can’t bring something to the table that helps his friends.

It’s also not something he’s shared beyond Scott and Lydia (and Derek, one night when the two of them were alone and shared a deep conversation full of truths and secrets that neither has addressed since). He didn’t want to go public with this new skill to the rest of the pack until he was sure he could control it. But now someone has Derek and he has no choice.

“We need to go. I’m not going to glean anything new from these books in the next hour that I don’t already know, and Derek could be… he could be already…” Stiles pauses. He’s unable to say it out loud. “We’re wasting time.”

Before they can respond, Stiles turns and walks toward the door, knowing they’ll follow after him.

—

The pack arrives at an empty apartment building. It’s condemned, and a little on the nose as far as Stiles is concerned.

"Okay, we can’t just barge in,” Scott whispers. “We don’t want to rain hell down all at once and force their hand, not while they have Derek.”

“Is it just the one in there?” Lydia asks.

Scott takes a large sniff of the air and nods. “Yeah, I only got one scent, but if they were powerful enough to take Derek down then we need to be careful.”

Just then, Derek screams. His voice is haggard and cuts through the air. It’s not loud enough to alert anyone who might be nearby, but to a group of supernaturals, it’s piercing.

Stiles raises his hand and the front doors of the building explode inward. He strides forward without a second thought, too fast and determined to be stopped by Stiles or Lydia, who are still standing in place, mouths agape.

Door after door flies open as Stiles storms down the hallway. He won’t stop until he finds the one that has Derek behind it. Finally, the last one bursts open, and he’s found his target. The witch turns, raising her hand. A wave of energy moves Stiles’s way, but he raises his own hand in return and the wall of energy parts around him and slams into the wall. The room shudders, dust and plaster falling to the floor from the rickety ceiling above them.

Behind her, Derek hangs limply. His arms are chained above his head and his sweat-soaked hair covers his eyes. The scarlet color of his blood will haunt Stiles for the rest of his life. Seeing Derek like that… seeing him _dead…_ something inside of Stiles breaks. It breaks more than Stiles ever thought a part of him could break.  
  
An angry sob threatens to bubble out of his throat, but he holds it back. He doesn’t think about anything else—definitely not the fact that this is the first magic user aside from himself that he’s run into since the druid attack—all he can focus on is taking the bitch down.

Stiles extends his hand and a ball of fire blasts out from his palm, straight toward the witch. She ducks, rolling out of the way at the last moment. The fire slams into the wall beside Derek, jerking him awake.

 _Awake_. He’s not dead.

Stiles doesn’t have time to feel any relief, because the witch is already clenching her fingers closed. A sharp jolt of pain explodes in Stiles’s chest, causing him to lose his breath. He gasps, struggling to stay standing. It hurts… it hurts so fucking bad. It’s like his ribs are being peeled apart.

”So… _you’re_ the magic-user in town,” the witch smirks, climbing to her feet. She has the upper hand again and is relishing in that fact. “Here to save your friend. How _quaint_. Just when I thought—”

Scott bursts into the room, growling loudly as he shifts into his werewolf face. The witch gasps, losing control of her spell and setting Stiles free from it’s hold. Clearly she’s never seen a werewolf before, let alone thought one was here in town. Lydia comes up beside them too.

”Cover your ears.” She says quickly, and then **screams**.

The witch is thrown backward, slamming into the wall beside Derek.

She growls. ”You have _no idea_ who you’re—” 

Stiles lifts his hand and jerks it in a circular motion. The witch’s neck snaps. Her body falls to the cold, hard ground.

Stiles runs over and manages to unchain Derek from the wall using a small bit of magic. He falls into Stiles’s arms, unable to hold himself up on his own. Stiles slowly lowers himself to the floor so Derek is laying in his lap.

“I thought she killed you…” Stiles whispers, rubbing his thumb along Derek’s forehead.

“She was going to,” Derek replies before breaking into a stream of coughs. A little bit of blood drips out of his mouth and leaks down his chin.

Tears prick at the corners of Stiles’s eyes. “Oh, _fuck_ … why didn’t you just give her what she wanted?”

“Because she wanted _you_.”

Derek looks up at Stiles for the first time. His eyes are tired, rimmed in darkness and bloodshot. He looks like hell and feels like it too. Stiles smiles, just so happy that Derek’s alive. He’s fucked up, but he’s alive. That’s all that matters.

”You’re an idiot,” Stiles whispers, wiping the blood of Derek’s chin with his sleeve.

”I know.”

They smile at each other… and then they kiss. They’re not really sure who started it. Maybe they both did. Their lips touch, and it’s everything they’ve both wanted for so long but never admitted, not even to themselves.

Scott coughs. Lydia subtly slips him a tenner.

Stiles and Derek break apart, misty-eyed and dazed. They’d clearly forgotten they weren’t alone.

Scott walks over and lifts Derek’s arm around his shoulder.

”Come on, you two, let’s get out of here.”

—

“She wanted _me_ , Scott.” Stiles says, his hand entwined with Derek’s as he sleeps on the bed next to Stiles’s chair. “She came here looking for me because I can use magic. I only wanted to be able to help you guys, and now there’s probably lots of witches out there gunning for my head.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Scott replies.

“I know… but Derek got hurt because of all this magic stuff. Maybe it’s not worth it. I couldn’t live if you were taken next, or Lydia… my dad, or anyone.”

Scott thinks about what happened. He can’t get the image of Stiles snapping that witch’s neck without a second thought. Sure, she was trying to kill them all, but he did it so _easily_. He can’t help but wonder if Stiles is right and that maybe magic isn’t worth it, no matter how useful it can be. Would the Stiles from last year have been so cavalier about ending an enemy’s life? Yes, Derek was in danger, but he’s still not sure… maybe magic changes too much.

“Just focus on being here for Derek. We’ll deal with the rest later.”

Stiles looks at Derek. He’s so peaceful when he sleeps. The hard lines of his face are relaxed, the usual sharpness softened by his ordeal. He’s already healing. Stiles loves him so much, and he can’t believe it took a kidnapping and magical fight to make him finally admit that to himself.

He squeezes Derek’s hand.

Derek squeezes back, and smiles in his sleep.


End file.
